Writing is a ladder

My Tyrannosaurus writing has found me a path out of chaos. Chaos amidst which I found myself while trying to develop my business. Then I did not know that business world is sharks’ empire. I put it in writing in my Shark Tale.

Writing must be something of an Iron Tale, must be tough and sincere to the core of human perception of pain as valor. I remain the grumpy T-Rex who started writing out of pain, not necessarily because of a broken world. But now and then with words we glue shards and pieces and put them together with blood. As we sometimes taste blood, ours or others’.

“Of all writings I love only that which is written with blood. Write with blood: and you will discover that blood is spirit.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

Be the one who cares, make words so disruptive that they create new worlds, hopes and dreams. Even if we are unhappy dinosaurs and find shelter in an Iron Tale or ruminate about feeling too much, whilst declaring colorless apparel, we should take power and strength from our stories. “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”- Joan Didion

Writing is a ladder to the sky in your mouth when you are in love.

Pay toll to love in words. If I sing songs to the blooming trees, they remain in bloom. My words protect them from smothering summers and mellow autumns. The “herbivore” writing is sweet and protective. Still they are disruptive words that create ladders and unite…people and their stories.

“Be the one who nurtures and builds. Be the one who has an understanding and a forgiving heart, one who looks for the best in people. Leave people better than you found them.” – Marvin J. Ashton

Art by Milla von Luttich.

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She is primarily a teacher of English. Also her mind is lured by goodies like finance, economics, interest rates, the stock market, as she has a hankering for how the money is made.
Nevertheless she is a dreamer on a cloud...As dreams cost nothing...
In ordinary days she is a word-weaver for everything and everything that breathes. In the best of days she just follows the seasons by means of bike, skis, or roller-skates.
She is grateful to all colors of the world and to people who read, laugh, smile and drop a line here, or on her email.

Thank you! Thank you! 😘 I am humbled and honored. What can I say… in a less personal note, I love the words that unite and I abhor the words that divide.
In a more personal note, writing with the heart in my mouth.

I agree that a poet is born from their pain, but personally I didn’t become a good writer until I stopped writing about myself and started writing about other people. I know many famous and important writers mostly wrote about themselves, like Saul Bellow and Sylvia Plath, but I get too distracted from the craft.

Thank you very much for reading and sharing your thoughts. Which is challenging 🙂 You are right, we have to take writing out of our selves, but there is always a filter, or a mirror that belongs to only us. When reading your words I could’t help thinking about Flaubert’s words “Madame Bovary c’est moi.”
With a view to writing, I am in between writing in blood, or with the ink of a ghost.
But I have to…

Be the one who cares, make words so disruptive that they create new worlds, hopes and dreams. … Pay toll to love in words. If I sing songs to the blooming trees, they remain in bloom.
Poetry! Quite beautiful.